Poison
by Wildcard
Summary: Death is the only escape that I have left........Slash.


Poison1

Poison  
  
By Dreamer  


  
Red.  
  
Red as blood. Scarlet, crimson, carmine, cerise,  
sanguine or ruby, none of them quite describe the  
color of this. The most potent poisonous potion I  
could brew. It took all my skill at Potions and I  
needed help from Professor Snape but I did it. A  
months worth of moonshine, the light gray thread that  
moonbeams are spun into went into its depths and made  
it sparkle like the stars were resting in it. The  
captured sound of a baby's first cry makes it tinkle  
with an eerie sound, as if church-bells are being rung  
far, far away.   
  
Shredded saffron, sliced with a silver knife, holds it  
together, stopping it from escaping. It needs only two  
more ingredients. A kiss, suddenly taken from an  
innocent I desire makes it vibrate gently, and a  
single hair from an enemy will finish it. Then and  
only then can I drink it. I have to drink it, touching  
both water and earth by the light of a crescent moon.  
  
I unstopper the fragile glass vial that holds the lock  
of Harry's hair and pull out one silk-like strand of  
hair. I drop it into the glass. It trembles of its own  
volition and then the glass burns with a crimson  
flame, transforming the liquid into a form of molten  
light. The glass glows brightly, an incandescent light  
radiating from the center of the now pure red liquid.  
No longer is it a jumble of impossible-to-attain  
ingredients but a sweet red liquid that will solve all  
my problems forever.   
  
The glass begins to glow brightly, an incandescent  
light radiating from the center of the now pure red  
liquid.  
  
It is finished. I can drink the poison and then my  
troubles will be over. I dangle one foot into the  
ice-cold water of the lake and press my left hand into  
the soil. I look up at the crescent moon and salute it  
with my glass. I take a deep breath, savoring the very  
taste of the cold night air. I shut my eyes, letting  
the cool night breeze fan my hair around my face.  
  
I lift the glass to my lips, the cold hard crystal of  
the wine-glass pressing against my soft lips and tilt  
my head back. I open my lips and the liquid flows down  
my throat, staining my lips with red, as if they're  
bleeding. It tastes faintly sweet but also slightly  
sour and it works almost immediately, my senses  
shutting down.   
  
I have time for one coherent thought before I die:  
Forgive me Harry,  
but.........................................................  
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Death is the only escape that I have left.  
  
Authors note: I seem to be in the habit of writing  
angst stories these days. *sigh* Oh well, at least  
they have romance in them. I wrote this one for the  
picture that I have in my profile, of Draco drinking  
from a wine—glass with his eyes shut. A friend of mine  
complained about the ending so I also wrote a fairy  
tale ending version which is longer and has a  
description of what exactly happened with Harry.  
Reviews will be treasured and I, like most other  
authors will answer any of your questions if you leave  
your e-mail address.  



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